You Still Have All of Me
by NotOneLineFF
Summary: When Chloe became immortal, it was everything they could have dreamed. But humans were never meant to live forever, and dreams were never meant to last. Not when time is the only thing that love can't conquer. TW: Suicide


The day Chloe become immortal was the happiest of his existence. The future stretched out ahead for both of them, bright and eternal. It was a gift, unexpected and undeserved, and he vowed to treasure it for the miracle that it was. That _she_ was.

The first few decades, life continued much as it always had, although the years passed far quicker than either of them would have liked. Both Dan and Ella eventually became enlightened to the truth; it was almost unavoidable after it became obvious that neither of their friends were being touched by the hands of time. They each had their respective freak outs, although Ella less so, much to Lucifer's delight. After that, a strange kind of normality resumed, and together, they moved on.

Trixie, of course, the clever child that she was, informed them that she had always known, and she was thrilled that her mother had been granted everlasting happiness with the man she loved. It was something she never grew to resent over the years, even when she began to look older than the woman who had birthed her. What hurt her more was heartbreak in her mother's eyes when she looked at her, a despair that was impossible to hide.

Chloe watched helplessly as her daughter aged, the lines on her face and silver in her hair something she would never find in her own reflection. The day Trixie passed forged a wound in her heart that she knew would be impossible to heal, no matter how long she walked the Earth. She would never see her child again. Her daughter was safe, and she was happy, but she was beyond her now, as was everyone Chloe had spent her mortal life loving.

Time however, brought with it more love, and in turn, more torture. For this was a torment she was forced to relive, unable to do a thing as her grandchildren were taken from her, and their children, until the day she looked at her descendants and no longer saw anything of herself there. No connection to the person she had once been, to the family she had created. She became a myth, a legend amongst the Espinozas; Chloe Decker, the woman who refused to die through sheer force of will.

Of course, that wasn't true. Her long life had been a blessing, but as the people she knew all slipped away, it began to feel like a curse.

But then there was Lucifer. His love for her never waned, no matter how long they spent together. She clung to it, her one lifeline in this ever changing world. Together, they continued their work, moving from city to city, the manipulation of dates and credentials making it easy to integrate themselves into whatever police department reigned there. Bringing those who deserved it to justice gave their lives purpose, meaning, and outside of that, they delighted in the eternal happiness they had found.

Eternal, until it wasn't.

Because nothing lasts forever.

It was Lucifer that noticed first. With each case, with each example of the depths of depravity humanity could achieve, Chloe grew a little colder. It showed in her lack of empathy towards victims, in her willingness to let him go further during interrogations than he ever had before. He tried to ignore it, to tell himself it was only natural that she would grow tired of having the same career for centuries. It was boredom, that was all. He'd felt the same way about Hell in the end, hadn't he?

It wasn't until he found himself trying to talk the woman he so cherished down from shooting a man in cold blood, that he realised this part of their lives was over. For as she stood over the body, watching the life inside bleed away from a shot she refused not to take, she turned to him with reasoning borne of the practicality of ages.

They knew where he was going, so why not help him get there a little faster? It didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things.

And so he dragged her away from that life, and tried to fill the void left behind with pleasure instead. They travelled every inch of land the Earth had to offer, filling their lives with new thrills, new experiences. Humanity was forever evolving, and his fascination with that change was endless, no matter how many millennia he spent basking in the wonders they created. He had hoped, _prayed_ even, that it would be enough, that he could share the lust he had for life with the one person who needed it the most.

It was in their home, in the closest thing they had found to paradise on this planet, that she finally asked him to stop. Another century of wandering had dulled the light in her eyes, and the fight to remain the person she had always been had become exhausting. Little by little, she began to care less about the world, about anything, or anyone, other than him.

Her disinterest was something he found himself unable to understand. Angels were built for longevity, designed so the passing of the ages would wash over them without ever leaving a trace. Humans were not. Time was a river that flowed over her, yes, but it left its mark, slowly eroding everything she was.

So when the struggle became too much, he fought on her behalf. Every day, he flew to the corners of the Earth, bringing back tales of the life outside of these walls, searching for something that would spark the joy that had once filled her soul. But it was to no avail. Eventually, she begged him to stop that too. His disappointment only made things worse.

Lost for what to do, he stayed by her side, her only light in the darkness. In desperation, he resorted to the one thing that had never failed him in that past, except when it came to her. He asked her what she desired, over and over, a question she never had an answer for.

Until the day that she did. An answer he had hoped she would never give.

_I want to die._

They were words that would haunt him. She wanted to leave, wanted to abandon him, just like everyone else in his life. What made it worse was that it wasn't a choice she was forced to make, no, it was what she _desired. _His loneliness would be the price she would pay to gain entry to Heaven, to be with her family again.

And how could he deny her that?

The process was much like it had been with Cain. Step by step, they worked through the various methods that would bring about her demise, and take her away from him for good. But nothing worked, and with every attempt, his heart broke a little more. Each time she would be reborn, gasping at the air until the realisation that they had yet again failed sank in, bringing tears to her eyes. The feeling of holding the woman he loved in his arms as she despaired over being unable to leave him, it was a kind of pain beyond anything he had ever known.

But he never faltered in his mission to help her, determined to give her the relief she so desperately craved.

So when the opportunity came to retrieve a knife that should have been forever out of reach, he took it.

He didn't tell her for weeks. At heart, he was a selfish creature, and he wanted to steal every remaining moment of life from her that he could for his own. Yet this was no life, not for her. She grew listless, empty, the last of her hope draining away with the last of her ideas for release. And he knew then that he had to let her go. Existing was not living, Hell had taught him that.

When he finally showed her the knife, it was the closest he'd seen her to happy in over a millennia.

They chose the beach to say their goodbyes. She looked as beautiful as he had ever seen her, as heavenly as the day he first kissed her on this very same spot. His soul had become a little lighter in that moment; a stark contrast to the weight of the knife in his hand now. The blade was far heavier than he remembered it to be, the feel of its hilt in his hand a reminder of the sin he had committed, and the sin he was about to commit again.

She wanted her death to be by his hand. This entire time, hurting her had been the only thing he'd refused to do, the one thing he couldn't bear. This was something they had to do together though, as they had in all things, that was what she insisted. But he couldn't do it. His hands trembled when the steel touched her skin, his strength vanishing at the mere sight of her blood welling up from an accidental nick.

He was paralysed, useless, and when the knife had lain against her for too long, she made the decision for him. She had no need for his strength when she had her own, and it was this she used to seal her fate, throwing herself into his arms one final time.

If you had asked him, he would have told you that it felt as if it were his own heart the blade had pierced.

She fell to her knees, and he went with her, collapsing into the sand that would be her final resting place. It was all he could do to look at her, dreading the agony he would see in her eyes, or worse, the regret. But when he did, all he saw was joy, and gratitude.

_I love you. Thank you._

Those were the last words she whispered against his lips, a smile upon her face as he kissed the final breath from her lungs. He kissed her like he was drowning, a kiss to say all the things he couldn't find the words to. She sagged against him, and he felt her soul begin to fade away. There would be no Heaven for her, no Hell. Just nothingness. They would never see each other again.

It was then, as he held her cold and lifeless body in his arms, that he made a decision of his own. A decision he should have known he would make from the beginning. It was as inevitable as his rebellion, as destined as his fall.

And as he lay down in the sand beside her, the blade of the angel of death ready in his bloodied hands, he knew that it was right.

For wherever she went, he would always follow.


End file.
